


Crying Alone

by Ghostwriter (Zoya_Zalan)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Despair, Gen, Introspection, POV First Person, hurt without comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/pseuds/Ghostwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely captain's late night thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crying Alone

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : Paramount owns all things Voyager. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> **Author's Notes** : This was written back in February of 1999. I absolutely hated the way the writers were handling the series by that time... and I think it shows in the mood of this little story.

~ * ~ * ~

How many times have I sat here like this, crying alone? Too many to count, I think. I find it amazing that I've been able to conceal the evidence of my despair as long as I have. Long nights filled with endless tears were never apparent as I entered the Bridge each morning for duty. It's my way. It's necessary.

I'm strong, but not that strong. I won't hide the truth — five years out here has taken its toll on me. I would never admit that to anyone, though. I can't. This crew needs me to be the steadfast, tough-as-nails commanding officer they've always been able to rely on. I soften appropriately when needed, but I never let down my guard. If I did, the results could be tragic. But this performance hasn't come without a cost...

I used to be human, flesh and blood like everyone else. But circumstances have caused that to change. If you pricked me, what would I bleed? My skin has hardened and my blood thickened into some substance I no longer recognize, flowing slowly through me, yet offering none of the warmth of life. The shell that surrounds my body is hard and unforgiving, an extension of me, yet alien just the same. People look at me and see the same person they always have. It's a convincing mask I wear, one that's been years in the making, one executed with a precision that can't possibly be human. I ask myself sometimes what I've become.

I can't find an answer.

I'm not sure there is a word to describe me, or a definition, for that matter. Chakotay once told me I'm not alone, but I am. There is no hope for me anymore. The only thing that keeps me going is a promise I made to myself long ago in a moment of profound clarity: I will get this crew home.

That's a promise I intend to keep. It gives me purpose. It gives me a reason to get up each morning after yet another sleepless night spent in tears. Tears... the only human part of me left. I cling to them with a desperation I've never felt before. Tears are supposed to cleanse the soul. For me, they're a powerful reminder, the last, great piece of Kathryn Janeway.

I say my name out loud, and my voice doesn't even echo. It's just a dull, lifeless sound in my ears. I touch my body and feel nothing, not even the gentle stir of desire I used to thrive on in moments of solitude. It's all gone. Kathryn Janeway is gone. Someone different stands in her place, someone Kathryn wouldn't even recognize, I think. This is what I am now, for better or worse. It's taken a long time, but I've finally accepted that.

It frightens me sometimes, this transformation. I wonder what will happen when we do get home. Will I transform again? Will I break out of this cocoon a beautiful butterfly, rejuvenated and reborn, gossamer wings lifting me higher than I've ever flown before? Or will my hardened spirit simply crumble into nothingness and blow away with the wind?

Would anyone remember me... remember Kathryn?

Do I remember?

I force the thought from my mind as the tears begin again. I welcome them, a bit of humanity to relish in once more. I take a deep breath as my vision blurs, teardrops falling soundlessly.

Another night has begun.

~ * ~ finis ~ * ~


End file.
